


a shadow on me

by layton_kyouju



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Post-Canon, references to witcher 2, there is nothing I write that isn't hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 06:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20169727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/layton_kyouju/pseuds/layton_kyouju
Summary: A night after Yennefer's arrival at Corvo Bianco.





	a shadow on me

"Your juice, madam."

Yennefer couldn't restrain the bubble of laughter that passed her lips. There was no need to.

"Thank you, dearest," she said with a grin. She took hold of the offered goblet in one hand, the other holding the disheveled sheets to her chest to keep out the evening chill.

The witcher gave her an enamored, lopsided smile before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. His bare skin so close, smelling of sweat and leather and her own perfume. Forgetting about the cool air, she released the blanket and trailed her fingernails down his marred torso, stopping at the sheet fastened about his narrow waist. A pleased grumble hummed deep in his throat. His lips meandered down lazily, meeting her own for a languid moment, then grazing over her jaw to meet her neck as his beard tickled her skin.

Although the sensations were nothing other than delightful, and Geralt's unending well of affection that poured from him made the desire to yank him onto the mattress difficult to counter, Yennefer could not ignore the exact reason why she had asked him to step out in the first place.

"I would like to drink in peace, if you don't mind," she murmured into his hair and gave his shoulder a halfhearted nudge.

His grunt was reluctant but understanding. Leaving his lover to her beverage, Geralt deposited himself before her on the bed, sprawled out on his stomach and lax like a cat soaking up a patch of sunlight. Head propped up on a down pillow, he let out a long, contented exhale as he relished in the soft linens.

Yennefer shook her head before at last taking a sip of her apple juice, but the corners of her lips still curved upward. Foolish witcher. She could not deny this was a flattering angle for him, though. The light from the candles set about the room cast smooth shadows over his carved muscle. The peaceful rise and fall of his abdomen. She gazed over all that was on display for her as she drank - a bit of a shame he still had the extra sheet covering his lower half.

Scars. Each one held a story on the canvas of his body. On long nights he would tell them each to her in quiet tones as she traced the ragged marks. Wyvern, ghoul, striga, axe, rapier, knife, and, on one unfortunate occasion, Kaer Morhen's stairs. Countless others had branded him over his century of life.

Some had not been there on any of those nights, she noted, too recent to have their stories told.

A few in particular caught her eye. A spattering of diagonal slices criss-crossing over his back, healed but fresher than many of the plethora that coated him like a thrown-together patchwork.

Far too clean for a basilisk's talons or a katakan's fangs. They were deliberate, filled with intent to flay and inflict pain, not from the survival instinct of any creature. Too human.

She reached out, graced them with a gentle caress.

The muscles beneath tensed, then eased.

She splayed her fingers across the scores and ran them over the sweeps of knotted flesh. "These are new," she said, matter-of-fact. She had noticed them long ago, back after they had escaped Ermion's lab by the skin of their teeth, as they reunited in the deepest of ways. There wasn't time then, just need for warmth and closeness after so much separation.

"Yeah," was the grunted reply.

He turned his head so a single narrow pupil stared back at her. Yennefer didn't back down.

The witcher let out a groan and looked to the headboard. "Temeria, after the king was… well, standing over the body of a dead hierarch tends to make you the prime suspect." His nose pressed against the pillow in his arms. "They wanted information, wanted to know why, but I had nothing for them since it wasn't me. Didn't wanna believe me, I guess. Or they didn't plan to in the first place." He shrugged. "Didn't get the chance to ask."

Silence. His focus moved to the far wall, aware that answer would not suffice.

The sorceress reached out with her mind, tentative for the resistance, expecting the wall. If she met it, she resolved to not press further despite how the ravenous curiosity gnawed at her.

His thoughts opened for her.

_ Dark, dank, shadows dancing across the cell walls caked in grime. Reeking of blood and piss and stagnant water. Scuttling of rats and cockroaches over the filthy stone floor. Flickers of distant torches hooked to iron, low voices that made her - his? - skin crawl. _

_ Exposed skin, stinging, hot wells of blood dripping down, soaking the hem of their trousers. Each drop runs through the rakes of hewn flesh like a trail of flames. _

_ Hands numb, wrists chafing and raw against metal, shoulders ache. So cold but so on fire, burning. _

_ Hard to see, black eye? Probably. More blood slips down past bruised lips into clenched teeth. _

_ Two hazy figures draw near, their gruff voices unintelligible from the hum filling their ears, but the words are not necessary as one thrusts a fist into their gut. Another hits their jaw. Deep, cruel laughter. Rattling of chains. Ringing, copper tang of blood spilling over tongue. Hurts, it all hurts. Awful jeering and faces cloaked in gloom, but gnarled, rotting teeth catch the torchlight in malicious grins. _

_ One last connection to the temple severs the last weak tether to consciousness. _

_ Fade back into the unfeeling darkness. Release. _

Yennefer jerked to the present. The room, _ their _ room, just moments ago filled with enveloping comfort, now carried the cold emptiness that bled from the memory.

Trembling hand clutching the sheets, teeth grit like a vice. Other hand gripping her cup with rigid fingers, ripples circling through the liquid it held. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the diamonds on her star pendant glow a faint lavender where it and its ribbon sat on the pale flank of the resolute unicorn.

_ Rage. _

Geralt's head was turned away toward the candle glowing on the nightstand. He lay very still.

Yennefer set down the goblet on the chest beside their bed. She crawled across the mattress, the edge of chill in the air a thing of the past as the blankets slid off of her.

She covered the witcher's body as best she could with her smaller frame, skin to skin. A little noise of surprise escaped him.

"I will never let anyone hurt you like that again." She buried her face in his neck, his spill of bright hair, so warm. Anything to get closer.

"Yen-?"

"Never." Her hands glided up his shoulders, his forearms, gripping his against the pillows. She felt and heard his breath hitch beneath her. "I would tear them apart before they could lay a finger on you," she purred into his ear. Her lip brushed its curve. "I would reduce them to nothing."

A shiver through Geralt's spine.

The sheets, every boundary between them, was gone in a flash. She moved down him, meticulous, kissing every blemish and scar as she went. Palms sliding over the arcs and valleys of muscle. His torso shifted with each breath, quickening, his pulse rushing beneath her fingertips.

Overwhelming heat. The need to feel, to share everything in the only way she knew how. The verbal aspect was always a struggle for her, even now, all these years later. More often than not it caught in her throat, something like fear holding it back. Words were never enough, anyway.

Actions, images. Memories. Those were the most powerful.

She wanted to chase away all the moments of pain, leave room only for the praises she whispered into his maimed skin. Fill each fissure and crack spreading over the years with all that she could wash through him.

With every rough exhale, her name tumbled from his lips. Desperate, keening into the lightest touch. Other nights he would let her have her fun, draw it all out of him until he was pleading, for he enjoyed it as much as she, but not now. She refused to deny him.

They climbed together, higher and higher. Hands scrambled for each other, anchors. Magic fizzled and snapped through the air, hair dancing on invisible tides. A sea of white, black, catch in the dim sparks.

In a burst of light, all melted away.

The world began to return again, settle back into place. Candles glowed like honey to fend off the lingering darkness.

Yennefer rested her cheek against her lover's back, his fingers gripped tightly in hers. The rapid, steady _ thud thud thud _ flooded her from beneath her ear and echoed through her veins. A perfect sound, perfect feeling. She pressed drowsy kisses to his vertebrae.

Light trembling from under her followed, gulps for breath. She assumed it just aftershocks, final ripples of the crest and crash.

The shuddering was wrong.

Her haze cleared in a lurch. "Geralt?" Yennefer cupped a hand beneath his shoulder and eased off of his torso onto the bed, guiding him to turn over. He didn't resist.

Flushed chest and shoulders, a sheen of sweat. He swallowed hard, and his attention remained locked on his hand as it grazed over Yennefer's thigh to rest on her hip while he fought for breath. Fingertips quivering, imperceptible to anyone other than her.

A glint sparkled in his golden eyes. Then slipped down.

Worry twisted Yennefer's stomach. "Geralt." She caught and brushed away a single tear with a fingertip.

He met her anxious gaze and gave her a weary grin through hiccups for air. "Guess I got pretty into it," he rasped. A blink sent another drop flowing. It followed the jut of his cheekbone and vanished into the bristle of his beard.

"Was it too much?"

He shook his head. "No, no, I _ just,_" a break in the final word. He paused, sucking in a deep breath, clearing his throat. His hair fell around his face, shimmering in the candlelight. Chest rising and falling, heart so fast beneath her palm.

Geralt tipped his head forward until their foreheads met. "I missed you. I missed you so much. Even when I didn't know you, I missed you, way down in my bones, Yen."

Something tightened in the core of Yennefer's ribs. She traced his cheek, the curl of the scar over his eye with her thumb, and his eyes fell shut at the slow trail of comfort.

After a moment, he reached up and cradled her hand in his. He nuzzled at her fingers, kissed her knuckles. She didn't have to seek him out to know what he was recalling. His eyes met hers. They burned with an intensity she wouldn't dare oppose. He knew that she knew.

Never again.

The fire waned in an instant, and exhaustion took its place. Years of exhaustion that pulled at every crease in his face, so much older now in more than simple years.

He seemed satisfied to just rest her hands on his lips.

Geralt's breath was returning to him, calming from the height. Silence surrounded them again, but a pleasant one. Yennefer settled in his lap, content to feel the heat of his breath over her skin and his body against hers.

Then his gaze tipped up. Tired, but not distressed like before, less strain. "Mind if I just hold you for a while?"

Yennefer swept a lock of ivory hair out of his face. She gave him a smile, but a hint of melancholy worked its way to the surface. A light kiss to his temple. "Of course not. We have all the time in the world."

Strong arms wrapped around her waist as Yennefer nestled beside the witcher. His head fit perfect beneath her chin, and he tucked his nose to her throat. Small kisses along where her neck and shoulder met. She rested her arms on his shoulders and fiddled with his hair that splayed onto the pillows.

Despite how much heat the witcher put out, goosebumps prickled on every inch of Yennefer that wasn't flush with Geralt. She murmured a few soft words under her breath, and, with a precise twirl of her wrist, the blankets fluttered up and fell across their entwined bodies.

They huddled in the shared calm. The scents of roses and sandalwood wafted from the candles' glimmering blooms.

“Love you, Yen,” Geralt mumbled. He pressed his mouth to her collarbone, something that would often be sensual, but was quite chaste.

A sigh left the sorceress's nose as she relaxed into his embrace. "I know."

A pause. Yennefer leaned back with a rumple of sheets, and sure enough the witcher's lips were turned in a frown as he glared up at her. She grinned at the bright amusement that sparkled in amber, and she held him tighter in her arms.

“I love you, too, Geralt,” she whispered into the hair on the top of his head along with a kiss. "Good enough?"

He gave a satisfied grumble and pulled her closer in return. Fingers trailed up and down her back, tracing idle patterns over her freckled skin.

Until they stopped.

Yennefer didn't realize her eyes had closed until she opened them again. The room had fallen darker, the deep of night. A thin whisp of smoke rose from the candle on the nightstand, but an intricate curl of her fingers and faint words brought the flame back to life. She clenched her fist in an attempt to loosen stiff tendons and joints. When it didn't work, she set her aching hand in Geralt's hair, combing through the long, brilliant waves.

Breath was light and shallow on her neck. Heartbeat slow, unnaturally slow, but far more familiar than any other. Yennefer closed her eyes once again, focused on the beats. Focusing until all else ceased to exist

_ Thump. _

One. Two. Three. Four.

_ Thump. _

One. Two. Three. Four.

_ Thump. _

Surrounded by warmth.

And love.

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking at the american cover of blood of elves (bc our witcher covers Suck and are just generic looking game art) and I saw that, holy shit, there's just blood spilling down geralt's back?? and I realized it must be bc in witcher 2 he Literally Gets Tortured at the beginning bc everyone thinks he killed foltest. I remembered how awful his injuries looked and how much pain he must have been in. I had a sudden very strong need to write yen being Pissed about what was done to him and channeling that into making him feel so good, and then geralt getting emotional bc he loves his wife so much and remembering how much she loves him blows his mind.
> 
> you can say witchers can't cry all you want, cdpr, but I will never forget in lady of the lake when geralt and yen are intimate for the first time after the fight at stygga and kiss each other's tears bc they're just so happy to be together again.
> 
> I Will Never Forget.


End file.
